Rat outta cage.

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Every once in a while, Jono ventures out of the house. It's not often and he tries to make sure no one sees him. The very last thing he needs is some stupid sort of yuppie school-counselor encouragement about accepting the world or something equally silly

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Jono keens a look; for a second. He's been in plenty of battle situations and sometimes uniforms don't come out one-hundred percent. It doesn't offend him, or overtly draw his attention.

~Lots of people have told me lots of things. Bio furnace of psionic energy, telepathic, sometimes hot, mayhaps explosive. Why I can talk to you with--~ He gestures the bandages. ~No face, an' all.~

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~Not at all.~

Jono really doesn't want to talk about him. Girlie who's got it all arranged to thrash street thugs is a much more interesting topic. ~I'm just some bloke who was walkin' down the wrong street. Getta load of you-- Capcom hero done right. You been doin' this long?~

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~Ehn.~ Jono props himself upright again. There's an aural light that follows him through his shirt. ~Still workin' on walkin' and seein', gel. All that 'hi-yah' stuff y'got, anyway, I wouldn't dream of somethin' underhanded.~

He drapes his coat over an arm and follows her lead. Shush-y girl. Go fig, don't tell the boy too much. ~Don't mean t'intrude but I think my body wants down more than up right now. I can take a corner away somewhere and be out of your hair but...~ He remembers that sickly feeling and it sucks worse when you can't even get sick. ~I pro'ly shouldn't be about.~

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~Wot's dangerous about us fellas is that the girls bite back f'r us,~ Jono notes calmly. ~It's the overwhelming charm of dark clothes and gettin' your butt whooped by illiterates. Y're a guy, y'wouldn't get it.~

And humor will hide getting his butt kicked by illiterates and saved by a strapping Steampunk of a chick. Angelo's going to laugh this one up. ~Plus if I was really tryin', I'd strap a guitar and croon somethin' cheesy eighties ballad. Too much damn work, I reiterate, after bein' shot.~

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~It'd be a pity. You bein' eyeless, I mean. Could make your market as the Blind Asskicker. Hone yourself an' all that.~

Laughter comes across in her mind. ~Y've got someone who's gonna watch yer back, though. Nothing bad about that.~

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~Sure, sure.~ Jono's sizing up the turntable from his spot on the couch. Jesus, it actually felt notably good to not be standing upright. He idly hopes the cops roughed those scalliwags up a bit.

~Got an ear for the heel-thumpers yerself, I see.~ He leans back in the couch, gets comfortable. ~Guess tonight's just a lesson that it's gettin' harder and harder t'find anyone who appreciates good music.~

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~I--~ He hadn't even thought about his head. A palm to the back of his skull said there was some blood. It'll be fun matting out of hair later.

~Yeah, sure.~ He shrinks a little and turns. With nerves all wonky and not blinking quite as they should, he could've walked around for hours before realizing he'd hurt his head, too. ~Guess I'm not totally up to speed again, I hadn't noticed.~

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~Whoa, whoa!~

That seems to be the limit. Not really that he minds light, but it takes a lot more than that to knock him out. Besides, no one's ever been able to tell him if he can be concussed anymore, really. Startled, maybe. ~Concussion's out, luv, an' I ain't one of the stupid, lucky ones wot can 'take a trip', if y'know what I mean.~